


all of my heroes died all alone (help me hold on to you)

by texaswatermelon



Series: and you go (and you go evermore) [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Happy Ending, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Warden Bethany Hawke, condensed slow burn, grey warden bethany and velanna both deserve better so i made it happen, mentioned Bethany Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, minor Leliana/Female Mahariel, takes place around the same time as inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texaswatermelon/pseuds/texaswatermelon
Summary: It starts as a tendril, the barest hint of a suggestion curling low in the stomach with a pleasant warmth, a sweetness that clings to every blood cell and travels up and up and up like a beautiful melody that isn’t heard, but is felt in the very back of the mind like a reminder. The melody caresses, massages, materializes into a single, gentle thought.Come home. Come home. Come home.





	all of my heroes died all alone (help me hold on to you)

**Author's Note:**

> most of the discussion around the cure for the calling can be found in the in-game dialogue in inquisition, depending on your world state. however, if you want to know more about fiona's story, you can find a summary on her page on the dragon age wiki. there is no official canon cure, so what's discussed in this story is just stuff i made up based on reading some fan theories and piecing together the story clues.
> 
> title from _the archer_ by taylor swift

It starts as a tendril, the barest hint of a suggestion curling low in the stomach with a pleasant warmth, a sweetness that clings to every blood cell and travels up and up and up like a beautiful melody that isn’t heard, but is felt in the very back of the mind like a reminder. The melody caresses, massages, materializes into a single, gentle thought.

_Come home. Come home. Come home._

Bethany’s eyes snap open and she bolts upright. Her blood turns to ice in her veins and her heart beats like a war drum. The Song doesn’t stop. The sweetness in her blood curdles into nausea that tugs violently behind her navel like a fish hook. Bethany feels the urge to wretch.

_No. It’s too soon._

Across the camp, Nathaniel stares at her with wide eyes, face pale and damp with sweat. They have faced some of the most fearsome creatures known to man together, but she has never seen him terrified before. When he speaks, his voice is so heavy it nearly drowns her.

“We have to go.”

xx

They make it to Amaranthine in record time, hardly even stopping to rest. It’s nearly impossible to sleep with the insistent melody infecting her soul at every second anyway. She thought that the poison of the taint making her blood sour like wine turned to vinegar was the most awful thing that she would ever endure, but she was wrong. This is far worse.

Oghren meets them just inside the keep, looking more disheveled than usual. He hasn’t been sleeping either, then.

“It’s the sodding Calling,” he growls, strapping a large battle axe to his back. “These nug lickers have been crying about it for days, but I’m not afraid to return to the Stone. I’m going to the Deep Roads.”

“Steady, Oghren,” Nathaniel urges. “I need you here.”

Velanna appears at the back of the hall and runs for them, looking a bit wild behind the eyes.

“We all feel it,” she says. Her usually cool demeanor has cracked in favor of the frantic edge behind her voice. “It’s not supposed to happen this way. What do we do?”

“The Warden-Commander,” Nathaniel says. “We must find her.”

“Mahariel’s gone,” Velanna snaps impatiently. “And what does she have to do with this?”

“She’s not gone; she’s just away. I don’t know where, but I know the nature of her mission. She seeks a cure.”

Bethany’s heart stops dead in her chest, blood draining from her face. “A cure? I thought—I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I don’t know if it is,” Nathaniel says wearily. “But we know of at least one Warden who somehow had all traces of the taint removed from her, and another who manages to greatly prolong his life through magical means. I imagine the Warden-Commander had them in mind when she set off on her quest. If she’s found something, it could explain what’s happening to us now.”

Triggering the Calling in every Warden was likely not the Warden-Commander’s aim, but Nathaniel’s words spark a flickering ember of hope within Bethany’s chest. Years of bone deep cold and endless, gnawing hunger; nightmares and nausea and the scent of the taint; weeks and weeks of endless darkness in the Deep Roads. Could it really end? Could she truly be free?

“Take Bethany and go as swiftly as you can,” Nathaniel tells Velanna.

“You’re not coming?” she asks, alarmed.

Nathaniel glances over at Oghren, who’s been guzzling ale as if it were water for the past few minutes now. “I must stay here and help the others.” He touches Velanna’s arm lightly in reassurance. “I promise that there is no one better to have at your back.”

Bethany warms just slightly at that, a small comfort in such a dire time. Velanna eyes her disdainfully. They’ve only crossed paths a handful of times in Bethany’s tenure as a Warden, but the elf’s blatant lack of respect for humans is well-known. That suits Bethany fine—she has little need for companionship as long as they can work towards their shared goal.

“Start with the Architect’s old lair. Perhaps there is some trace of Mahariel yet left behind. After that, I would visit Avernus at Soldier’s Keep,” Nathaniel says. There’s little else to say, so Bethany simply nods. Nathaniel meets her eye, expression so grave he could just as easily be delivering condolences to any man’s widow. “Good luck.”

“Maker watch over you,” Bethany replies.

Velanna scoffs at that, but Bethany simply ignores her. In the back of her mind, the Song swirls, delicate and persistent.

xx

Not long after arriving at Vigil’s Keep for the first time, Bethany was treated to the story of the Architect and his sentient darkspawn. The Warden-Commander had chosen to destroy him and The Mother, his corrupted creation. Wandering through the remains of his lair now is no pleasant experience. The stains and smells that linger only add to the nausea that hasn’t left Bethany’s body since the Calling began. She feels the foulness of this place like lingering spirits that raise the hairs on the back of her neck to attention.

Velanna has barely spoken two words to her since they left the keep, in favor of either ignoring Bethany completely or sending scathing sideways glances in her direction. Bethany doesn’t mind the silence, though she suspects that idle conversation would at least aid in quieting the Song a little. The elf has been tense since they entered the Deep Roads (though these are like no Deep Roads Bethany has ever seen) and her eyes cast about each room furtively as though she’s expecting someone to jump out of the shadows at any moment.

“There’s nothing here,” Velanna huffs, voice barbed with irritation. “We’re wasting time.”

“Perhaps we should move on then,” Bethany agrees, fingers curling tightly around her staff in search of some comfort in this cursed place.

They depart along the same route from which they entered. The caves are dark and winding, each alcove shadowed in a way that makes Bethany uneasy. She senses no darkspawn here, but darkspawn are not the only things that can kill a Warden. Suddenly, Velanna shouts, and Bethany readies her staff for a fight. But as she looks around, there’s nothing there. That doesn’t stop Velanna from running, of course.

“Seranni!” she calls, and takes off down a side passage so fast that Bethany has to sprint to catch her, yelling Velanna’s name. She catches the elf’s wrist and tugs her back, but Velanna snarls and tries to pull away.

“Velanna, stop,” Bethany urges, grip firm. “What are you doing? Stop!”

“Let go of me, human! I saw her! I have to go after her!”

Bethany doesn’t know who _she_ is, this Seranni, but at this rate Velanna is going to get them lost or killed, and Bethany isn’t too keen on dying just now. “Velanna, stop—stop! There’s no one there. Get ahold of yourself!” she shouts when Velanna tries to pull away again. “There’s no one there. We’re alone.”

For a moment, she thinks Velanna may hit her. The elf breathes so hard that she almost expects smoke to curl out of her nostrils, like a sleeping dragon on the verge of waking. Her eyes are bright and half-crazed, a symptom of the Song, perhaps, or maybe something even worse than that. Finally, she relaxes, at least to the point where Bethany thinks she won’t run again. She nods once, the proud jut of her chin dipping just slightly, and Bethany sighs with relief.

“Let’s go,” Velanna says tersely, as if the past few minutes were just a figment of Bethany’s imagination, and leads them back out of the caves.

xx

They make camp for the night several hours later, having set their course for Soldier’s Keep. Velanna hasn’t said a word to Bethany since they left the Deep Roads, and Bethany has let her be, eager to keep as much peace between them as possible. The Song keeps her company in its own disturbing way, but as she watches Velanna cook two squirrels over the fire, she wonders exactly what madness gripped her back in those caves. She hasn’t seen that kind of wild, hopeful sorrow since her mother threw herself over Carver’s mangled body and begged him to get up all those years ago.

“Who’s Seranni?” Bethany asks against her better judgement, but since Velanna nearly left her alone on this trip in her reckless pursuit of a shadow, she thinks she might have some right to know.

Velanna’s body tenses immediately, taut as a bowstring and every bit as dangerous. “We’re not talking about this,” she says with a voice as sharp as the ice shards that collect under Bethany’s fingernails when she’s angry.

Bethany bristles at the response. She’s done little to earn the vitriol she’s received since they left Amaranthine, save stopping Velanna from getting herself killed. They’ve never traveled together before (the Wardens generally refrain from sending multiple mages out together at a time), and Bethany knows that the elf likes to keep to herself, but she fails to see how they can watch each other’s backs if they can’t even be cordial to one another.

That’s the only reason she lets the subject drop, despite every ounce of her poisoned, traitorous blood urging her to press the issue. Bethany purses her lips.

“Have it your way, then,” she mutters, and they return to terse silence and the haunting melodies of their respective Songs.

xx

Avernus may have found a way to stave off his own Calling, but he certainly does not look any better for it. His skin is dull and grey, like ancient cracked clay. His eyes are clear, unlike the cloudy madness that Larius displayed, but the whites have long since turned yellow, his dark irises ringed with deep red. He looks as if he would crumble to dust if anyone so much as breathed on him, and Bethany keeps her distance out of pure repulsion. If this is the answer to the cure, she’d sooner dig her own grave.

“I saw the Warden-Commander—when was it? Several months ago now, I’d guess. I have little use for keeping track of time,” he says brusquely. “She came asking after a cure.”

“And?” Velanna probes waspishly when he doesn’t offer anything further. “She is not here, so I assume you were unhelpful. Spit it out, old man; we haven’t all got an eternity.”

“You are a deeply unpleasant woman,” Avernus sniffs, though he doesn’t look especially offended.

“I can be more so,” Velanna replies, a thinly-veiled threat that makes Bethany roll her eyes. As if this kind of posturing will get them answers any faster.

“Please,” she says, and she can hardly believe that she’s the only one here who has any sort of manners, given just how graceless she feels most of the time. “Any information you have is appreciated. We’re a bit desperate.”

Velanna manages a glare in her direction at that admission, but really, what do they have to gain by pretending? Avernus offers a husk of a smile, lips drawn thin as fraying thread.

“Yes, you hear it too, don’t you?” he asks, but there’s no need to answer. He already knows their quandary. “It doesn’t exist, of course. The cure, that is. I told the Warden-Commander as much, and she left shortly after.”

Hope sinks to the bottom of Bethany’s stomach like a boulder. For a moment, it seems as though the Song swirls triumphantly in her veins before she clamps back down on it.

“Did she say where she was going when she left?” Velanna asks, a sensible question that Bethany is too distraught to pull together.

Avernus’ disinterest in their presence is quickly becoming apparent as he turns back to his books. “Can’t say for sure. I told her that they were trying to draw the Blight out of the earth in Lothering a while ago to claim it back for living on, but they were never successful. Said she might at least look and see it for herself. Aside from that, she did mention that she would likely seek out Fiona.”

“The Warden who lost the taint?” Bethany clarifies. Avernus hums in response.

“She’s the Grand Enchanter of the Circle now, or so the Warden-Commander mentioned. Val Royeaux, I think.”

Does he even realize that the Circles don’t exist anymore? Does he know about the war raging on outside of this keep? But it likely matters little to him. What’s one more war to a man who may live forever?

They leave him with little more than a parting thanks, but he doesn’t notice anyway.

xx

Lothering is a waste of time, as she suspected it would be, but they have precious few leads at the moment and can’t afford to be picky. Bethany feels the blighted dirt crunching under her feet in the same way that she can feel darkspawn just around the corner, drawing nausea all the way up from her toes. She has not returned here since they fled, has not even passed within a league of it, and now she wishes it would have stayed that way.

She finds her old house right where they left it, a burnt out shell of a thing that resembles nothing like a house now. Her feet carry her to it without her permission. There’s nothing but ashes here, and yet Bethany can still very clearly see the spot where her mother would sit by the fire and mend their clothes, clucking at them for being so reckless with each new tear she found; where her father would sit with her for hours, watching her conjure the same flame over and over until she was drained of mana and her hands went numb, a warm smile and a cookie waiting for her at the end of it; where Carver would stand in the yard and practice swinging his sword until the sun went down, that surly expression on his face deepening with each stroke; and where Hawke would swagger into their shared bedroom after a long day of work, bone tired, but making a good show at being energetic for Bethany’s sake, always with bright eyes and a fond smirk and a joke to make her laugh.

The sound of footsteps rips her out of her reverie as Velanna approaches. Bethany wants to slap herself for allowing these memories to seep in without her permission, to make her long for something that is long gone and never again meant for her.

“Did you find something?” Velanna asks, mild irritation lacing her voice at the delay.

“No,” Bethany says. “There’s nothing here anymore.”

If Velanna hears the emotion choking her words, she doesn’t acknowledge it, a fact that Bethany is grateful for. They turn away from the house and from Lothering in its entirety. When Bethany feels bile rising in the back of her throat, it tastes vaguely of the Song.

xx

They make for Redcliffe in order to replenish supplies and determine their next move, crossing through the Hinterlands to get there. The bitterness of Lothering still lingering, Bethany finds herself growing more frustrated with every step. They are months behind the Warden-Commander, following a half-cold trail that guarantees no outcome. She feels certain that she will always be fruitlessly trailing behind, winding her way through Thedas with a companion that she must keep at arms length like an agitated beehive, never truly finding what they’re looking for until the Calling drives them both to insanity.

The mage war rages on around them, signs of it present along every road. This area clearly has the worst of it, with whole villages still aflame and displaced townspeople seeking refuge elsewhere. In another lifetime, Bethany thinks that she very well could have found herself in the thick of it all. Instead, she forges ahead. Her mission is clear, and it’s not her place to interfere. 

Despite their best attempts to stay off of the main roads and mostly out of sight, they find themselves ambushed by a group of Templars several miles outside of Redcliffe. They’re really only saved by the absolute incompetence of the Templars, who come crashing through the trees with a singular purpose in mind that apparently does not include any semblance of stealth. Bethany wields her staff with confidence, using the blade of it to pierce the weak spots of their armor as the Templars crowd around them.

“Fools!” she hears Velanna yelling at her back. “We are Grey Wardens, not your hapless chattel mages from the Circle!”

“I don’t think they care about that right now,” Bethany says through gritted teeth as she calls ice through from the Fade to slow their attackers down.

“Then they will die for their transgression,” Velanna replies.

Bethany feels the ground rumble under her feet as thick roots spring from the earth, twisting up through Templar armor and ripping it apart, piercing through their bodies and tossing them about like a cat’s prey. Velanna laughs at the chaos that she’s created, distracting her from a Templar behind her that was not caught in her spell. Bethany sees him just as he poises himself to run Velanna through with his sword and she feels a ferocious rage overtake her. How many others have they killed like this, taken unawares and not nearly as equipped to defend themselves as she is? Fury ignites flame in her veins, burning so hot that even the Song falters for a moment; it explodes from her fingertips and she immolates the Templar, roasting him inside of his armor until he is nothing but smoke and char.

Velanna meets her gaze, grass-green eyes bright with the thrill of battle, looking faintly surprised that Bethany came to her rescue. After a moment, she nods, just a slight acknowledgement, but a show of appreciation all the same. Bethany nods back, and it feels like they’re finally on even ground for the first time since they embarked on this quest.

“The war’s worse than I thought,” Bethany murmurs as they search the bodies of their attackers for anything of use. “People are getting desperate, attacking without discrimination.”

“If humans weren’t so foolish about magic, this wouldn’t be happening at all,” Velanna says haughtily. “The Chantry teaches people to fear mages like some dark creatures in the night and locks them away in stone towers. What did they think would happen?”

Her implication that the Dalish are superior in this aspect is not surprising. Bethany doesn’t disagree, but she thinks briefly of Kirkwall, of a Chantry full of people wiped from existence in a single explosion, and thinks that there is some blame to be placed on both sides. Does Velanna even know what her old companion did in his final days?

Bethany glances at the Templars strewn at her feet. “There was a time when I feared Templars above all else. Now I know that they’re far from the scariest thing this world has to offer.” Velanna meets her eye with something like understanding, but this is hardly the time for tortured confessions. “We should move. The town’s not far now, and we’ll be safer there.”

xx

Redcliffe is awash with refugees. The barkeep at the local tavern, the Gull and Lantern, tells them regretfully that he doesn’t have any open rooms.

“We’re always grateful for the Wardens around here, but I’m overrun with all of these damn mages,” he says gruffly. “No offense,” he adds when Bethany raises an eyebrow.

“Why are there so many mages here?” Bethany asks, glancing over her shoulder to take in the sheer amount of robes and staves congregating in the small space.

The barkeep points to a woman in the far corner of the room. “The Grand Enchanter over there brought ‘em all here. Hopefully to end this blighted war, but I’ll not hold my breath on that.”

“Perhaps our luck has turned,” Velanna muses, sharing a look with Bethany.

Bethany thanks the barkeep for his assistance and they approach the Grand Enchanter. Fiona eyes them warily, but makes no moves otherwise.

“Well met,” she greets them with a voice that says quite the opposite. Still, gestures for them to sit across from her at the table. “It seems my dealings with the Grey Wardens are becoming more frequent. I’ve had more visits in the past few months than I have in the years since I left the Order.”

“The Warden-Commander, you mean?” Velanna asks, an edge of excitement to her voice that Bethany didn’t even know she was capable of. “Did you speak to her?”

“I did,” Fiona nods. “She came to me in Val Royeaux, asking about the taint. Or, more precisely, how I became free of it. I assume you seek the same information?”

Velanna opens her mouth to speak, but Bethany quickly cuts her off, ignoring the resulting glare she receives in return. “We’d be grateful to hear your story, if you’re willing to share it again.”

“Very well,” Fiona says wearily. “Though I’m sorry to tell you in advance that it likely does not contain the answers you seek. In the end, even I do not know what cleansed the taint from me.”

Her tale is strange, to be sure. Traveling with the former King of Ferelden to stop the Architect from further corrupting the Grey Wardens is no small feat. As promised, there’s nothing in her story that suggests specifically what might have cured her. Bethany wonders if the Warden-Commander is as frustrated with this search as she is right now.

“Do you know where the Warden-Commander is now?” Velanna asks after Fiona has finished her tale.

“I am sorry, but I can’t say. She was still in Val Royeaux when I left.”

It’s not a true lead, and Bethany sees Velanna’s face cloud with irritation. With nothing more for the Grand Enchanter to offer them, they take their leave of her. On their way out, the barkeep calls them over to tell them about another tavern on the other side of town called The Grey Warden’s Rest, saying that the owner there will make sure that they have a room for the night.

As promised, a fire-haired woman named Bella welcomes them with open arms the minute she sees their uniforms. She seats them at a table and offers them a hot meal and free drinks for the entirety of their stay. When Bethany objects and tells her that she’s being too generous, Bella waves her off.

“The Hero of Ferelden saved this town and helped me get my livelihood. I’ll not see a Grey Warden spend a single copper under this roof.”

They take their meal in relative peace, save a few townspeople wandering over to thank them for their service. It’s the most satisfied Bethany has felt in ages—the Wardens are well-known for having an insatiable appetite, and it feels as if the Calling has made it worse. The Song fills her with a heavy sorrow that makes her feel an emptiness in her very bones, a thirst that will only be slaked when every last drop of blood leaves her body. But Bella keeps the bread and stew coming, and that’s something at least.

“You knew your way around that town we stopped at before. Lothering.”

Bethany is so startled by the sound of Velanna’s voice, and then further by the fact that she’s actually addressing her, that it takes her a moment to piece her words together and form a response. By then, Velanna is staring her down with visible impatience, as if Bethany is the rude one for not expecting to have a conversation after weeks of silence.

“It was my home,” Bethany says finally. “Before. We had to flee when the Blight came. I haven’t seen it since.”

She doesn’t elaborate further, doesn’t talk about the unholy terror of running away from the only home she’d ever known, the hot knife that seared into her heart as she watched her twin brother fall in a twisted mass of broken bones. That part of the story is hers to keep, stuffed away in the depths of her soul, a comforting pain that she can take out and play with when her usual nightmares grow old.

“Is that how you joined the Wardens?” Velanna asks, eyes probing as if Bethany is nothing more than a book for her to read, like she can explore the neat chapters of Bethany’s life just by flipping through them.

“No,” Bethany says, mouth drawn tight. “That came after.”

When it becomes apparent that Bethany is not going to say more, Velanna huffs softly and returns to her food. Bethany assumes that’s the end of their conversation for the evening, but it appears that Velanna is determined to continue surprising her.

“Seranni is—_was_ my sister,” she says, hesitantly, like she hasn’t even convinced herself that she wants to say it. 

The _was_ tells Bethany everything she needs to know. _Was_ like Malcolm was her father; like Leandra was her mother; like Carver was her brother. The Song hums, emboldened by thoughts of loss. _Come home_. Bethany forces it down until it makes her sick.

“I’m sorry,” Bethany replies, because she knows all too well that there aren’t any words that can ease that pain. “What was she like?”

Velanna laughs, the softest sound that Bethany has ever heard from her mouth. “She was captivating. Electric. As sure as the grass between your toes when you run without shoes. Refreshing, like entering a meadow just after a spring rain, when you can smell the damp earth and the sunlight glints off of every bead of water. She was the essence of possibility.” Her face darkens suddenly and she shakes her head. “Everything I could never be.”

If anyone had asked Bethany prior to this if she thought Velanna was capable of such poetry, she would have laughed in their face. A good reminder, she thinks with a hint of self-chastisement, that people can contain multitudes despite her own propensity for viewing the world in shades of grey these past years.

“When humans attacked our clan and I left to seek revenge against the sanction of my Keeper, Seranni stood by me when no one else would,” Velanna continues. “A few others joined us, but they were all killed by darkspawn and my sister was carried away.”

Bethany pales at that, fearing the worst. She knows what happens to the women abducted by darkspawn. Better to slit your own throat than allow them to turn you into one of those grotesque broodmothers.

“Did you find her?” she asks hoarsely, pushing her bowl away as her hunger is replaced by nausea.

“Yes,” Velanna nods with eyes like stone. “The Architect had her. He did…something to her. I still don’t know. But she wasn’t the same. She told me to leave her there, and then she disappeared. I never saw her again.”

_Except when you tried to run off after her_, Bethany thinks, but that’s a nasty thought that doesn’t need to be spoken. In the end, she is grateful that Velanna decided to share. It’s a show of trust that speaks volumes and puts Bethany slightly at ease.

“When I was first sent off with the Wardens, I didn’t talk to my sister for years. I was so angry and bitter; every time I sat down to write her a letter, it just came out as poison. It took me a long time before I was able to put down something civil, and the first few times I saw her again after my Joining, I was a bit of a brat.”

Velanna bristles at Bethany’s story, scowling over her food and fingers gripping at the table. “What are you suggesting? That Seranni won’t see me because she’s angry with me?”

“No, that’s not—” Bethany sighs and tries again. “After my Joining, I _was_ angry at my sister. But more than that, I was ashamed at what I’d become. I let my circumstances twist me into someone I didn’t recognize, and I didn’t want to subject my family to that. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on their faces when they realized I wasn’t the girl they once knew anymore. So maybe it’s the same for your sister. Maybe she didn’t want you to have to bear what she’d become.”

Velanna’s expression clouds after that and she descends into contemplative, brooding silence. It’s familiar, at least, and Bethany leaves her to go to the bar and chat with Bella while she orders an ale. The redhead tells her about the night the Warden-Commander saved them all from a plague of walking dead, a story that Bethany has read about before, but she enjoys the way that Bella tells it. Not quite as much as she enjoys the pretty blush that stains the woman’s cheeks when Bethany smiles, and for half a second she thinks that Velanna wouldn’t miss her if she slept in Bella’s bed tonight.

Before she can make a decision either way, the whole world shakes and the sky splits open in a brilliant shade of sickly green. Bethany feels it like a blast to the chest, the Veil torn asunder, and one glance at Velanna’s wide-eyed state tells her that every mage in Thedas felt it, too. They run outside, along with the rest of the town, and Bethany cranes her neck up to look at the wreckage. She truly thought she’d seen everything the night that Meredith turned herself into a lyrium statue, but this is certainly worse by miles. 

“Maker’s breath,” Bethany breathes, watching as every manner of demon begins pouring out of the hole in the sky.

“Great,” Velanna grouses, folding her arms across her chest. “One more thing to keep me from sleeping at night. As if this infernal Song wasn’t vexing enough.”

And that’s not exactly what Bethany was thinking, but it’s a fair point all the same.

xx

They argue half the night about whether or not they should head in the direction of the Breach and try to lend aid. Velanna steadfastly refuses, of course, and Bethany’s got a pounding headache just from looking at her pinched face.

“Unless Mahariel falls out of that hole in the sky, I’m not going. Or did you plan to consult the demons about a cure for the Calling?” Velanna asks mockingly.

“The Calling will be the least of your worries if this world gets swallowed into the Fade,” Bethany snaps.

Velanna is undeterred. “We have our orders.” Bethany is certain that Velanna never followed an order in her life unless it suited her. “What do you think we’re going to do against that hoard? What sense is there in adding two more dead bodies to the pile? Our best option is to keep moving. The last place anyone saw Mahariel was in Orlais, so that’s where I’m going.” At Bethany’s cold silence, the elf grits her teeth. “I would prefer not to go without you.”

It is, perhaps, the weakest olive branch that has ever been extended, but Bethany can’t argue with her logic despite every cell in her body screaming at her to try to do _something_. But what can she really do, one woman against the end of the world? At least her current task is tangible, something to hold onto while everything else around them unravels.

So she relents, falling into bed to stare at the ceiling while the Song in her head clashes with the buzz of the Fade racing over her skin.

xx

In the morning, they depart for Val Royeaux, bags heavy with fresh supplies. Bella catches them on the way out, hand resting warmly in the crook of Bethany’s elbow.

“Please be safe,” she says earnestly.

Bethany returns the sentiment, but it feels dreadfully hollow when all she can think is that Velanna’s precious Mahariel would never have turned away from a crisis the way they are now.

The road to Val Royeaux is long and made only more treacherous by the influx of demons almost everywhere, which is truly the last thing that Bethany has ever wanted to see in her lifetime. A few days after the sky tears open, it’s suddenly stitched shut again, though it remains tainted by an ugly scar that does nothing to ease Bethany’s mind. And yet there are still rifts dotted along the landscape, small tears just big enough for a few demons to slip through from the Fade. One demon is trouble enough, but the nightmares that assail these lands are more troublesome than any Blight.

Bethany exercises her right to interfere whenever she sees someone in danger. It happens several times along their journey—helpless citizens under attack from demons, blood mages, Templars, and bandits. The first time she runs off upon hearing the shout of a young girl pinned down by some kind of despair demon, she expects Velanna to be furious. Instead, the elf follows close behind, throwing up a barrier to protect the girl while Bethany incinerates the spirit.

“I said we had to continue our mission, not that we couldn’t help anyone,” Velanna says with a scowl when Bethany looks at her with surprise after it’s over.

Bethany doesn’t comment, but she does just barely manage to suppress a smirk. It’s good to know that her companion has a heart, whatever their differences of opinion might be.

Not long after crossing the border into Orlais, they encounter a terror demon stalking the countryside. The creature is massive, at least eight feet tall, all spindly and sharp. Its screeches are enough to turn blood to ice, and it takes a massive effort on both of their parts to vanquish it. Velanna is injured in the battle when the creature burrows into the ground and appears behind her seconds later, slashing her across the chest and shoulder with its razor claws when Bethany shouts for her to turn around. 

When it’s over, Bethany runs to her to assess the damage. Her skin is torn and bloody where the demon’s claws ripped through her tunic. She waves Bethany off, insisting that she’s fine, but it’s evident in her slower gait and the paleness of her skin that she’s not. Bethany allows her to walk a few miles before finding a decent spot to rest and eat, and then she sets herself to tending Velanna’s wounds, despite the other woman’s protests.

“We haven’t come this far just for you to die of infection,” Bethany says with finality, and Velanna finally shuts up about it, though she continues to sulk for a moment afterward.

Bethany carefully cleans the wounds, grateful for something to concentrate on. The Song fades to the background as her focus sharpens. Velanna hisses at the burn of the poultice that Bethany applies, and Bethany tuts, then apologizes softly. Up close like this, Velanna is all sharp angles—cheekbones like blades and a nose like a cliff’s edge. Bethany finds herself tracing the outline of Velanna’s ear with her eyes, the subtle slope of it tapering off into a fine point. She thinks of all the times she’s heard the term “knife-ear” spit disdainfully by her fellow humans. What a silly thing to define a race by.

Velanna notices her attention and stiffens, jerking away. “What are you doing?” she snaps with more alarm than Bethany thinks is strictly necessary. “Are you staring at my ear? What’s wrong with it?” Bethany is kind of at a loss for words, and her silence only escalates Velanna’s panic. She quickly covers her ears with her hands and looks at Bethany with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “You think they’re clownish, don’t you?”

“Clownish?” Bethany repeats incredulously, absolutely flabbergasted and totally unsure about how this got so out of hand. “Velanna, no. Come back here; you’re going to make yourself bleed again.” She pulls Velanna back to her and returns to dressing her wounds, though Velanna is still clearly agitated. After a moment, she says, “I don’t think your ears are clownish. I think they’re quite beautiful, actually.”

“Beautiful?” Velanna says, voice thorny. “You’re just saying that.”

Bethany huffs, equal parts amused and exasperated. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not one for platitudes.” She reaches out to run her finger along the edge of Velanna’s ear, a whisper of a touch that makes the elf shiver almost imperceptibly. “If I say they’re beautiful, I mean it,” she finishes softly.

Velanna blushes a brilliant shade of red. “Well…thank you, then,” she mutters awkwardly, like she’s never received a complement in her whole life.

The mood shifts so suddenly, tension morphing into something else entirely, and the effect of it hits Bethany like a charging bronto. She apologizes quietly for her shoddy healing magic as she covers the wounds with her hands and closes up the worst of it. It will scar, but such is the life of a Grey Warden. When she’s finished, Velanna springs to her feet and starts gathering their things, eager to get on the road again. She can hardly meet Bethany’s eyes, but that’s something Bethany absolutely does not have the energy to address just now.

xx

They arrive in Val Royeaux at sunset. The city is like nothing Bethany has ever seen before, beyond her wildest imaginings, beyond the pale justice that any sketches in books or portraits hung in dimly-lit hallways could ever hope to achieve. The city is ablaze in a glow of dark orange as the sun sinks lower, making every brilliant color splashed across its visage deep and rich. It’s a full assault on Bethany’s senses—the smell of sweet cakes and roasted meats on street carts mixed with the scent of flowers draped across absolutely every available surface, the sound of merchants hawking their wares and Orlesian gossip dripping off of every wagging tongue, the Chant of Light sung from every unseen corner. There was a time when Bethany would have tripped over herself to get even a glimpse of this place, and though she thought herself long past such childish wonder, she finds herself drinking in every bit of it still. It’s enough to dim the Song to nothing more than a whisper in her veins, and if nothing else, she can appreciate it for that.

Two Grey Wardens (one Dalish, no less) traipsing through the capital is not a common sight. It’s enough to draw murmurs and whispers, eyes sliding around under opulent masks to glance at them with curiosity and suspicion and disdain. It puts Velanna in a foul mood, and she’s practically snarling by the time they find their way to an inn that will accept them for the night, even if the woman behind the counter keeps darting her eyes to look at them nervously as though they might summon darkspawn just by their mere presence.

“What nonsense this city is,” Velanna complains when they get to their room. “A cesspool of human frivolity and foolishness.” She pulls off her chainmail and dumps it onto the bed in a heap while Bethany starts a fire in the modest hearth. “I’m going to kill Mahariel when I see her. What is she thinking? The Warden-Commander of Ferelden cannot simply disappear without telling anyone where she went. But this is just like her of course, always running off to tend to every sniveling child with a skinned knee and cats too lazy to jump down from trees.”

“And here I thought you were friends,” Bethany says, amused by Velanna’s impassioned ranting.

“Of course we are. That doesn’t mean that she’s not a fool.”

Bethany crosses the room and invades Velanna’s space without asking, checking her wounds from the terror demon. They’ve healed better than she expected, just a few jagged pink streaks across sun-kissed skin. Velanna tenses when she draws close, as always, but tries to make it look like she doesn’t (as always).

“I seem to remember hearing a story about you, once,” Bethany says, still feeling a bit playful despite herself. Perhaps the splendor of the city has infected her. Certainly nothing else has (not her current proximity to her traveling companion, for instance). “You appeared out of thin air to single-handedly save a town full of humans from the darkspawn. They say you looked like a warrior goddess.”

“No one says that,” Velanna says grumpily, but she is blushing as she worms away from Bethany’s prodding fingers.

Bethany allows herself a small chuckle. “Why would I make that up? I’m not nearly clever enough to spin tales.” _Not like Varric_, she thinks with a sudden pang of loss. _Not like Isabela_. “I think I might go out and take a look around town. Perhaps I’ll pick up a rumor or two about the Warden-Commander. Would you like to join me?”

“A Dalish elf running around Val Royeaux,” Velanna scoffs, and Bethany regrets that she’s right about that. It would be a scandal that would probably do more harm than good.

“I’ll bring you something to eat when I come back,” Bethany tells her.

Velanna mumbles something about not needing to be mothered, but Bethany is already out the door by then.

xx

She thinks it’s astounding how the city can just continue on as if nothing is going amiss outside of its gilded walls. One would hardly think the sky was pouring demons only months ago while two wars raged on underneath. There is no hint of the Orlesian Civil War here; people go about their lives, laughing in the streets and spending coin as if tomorrow is just another promise. Bethany has not heard any promises in going on a decade now. The thought sours her mood a bit.

She wanders for a while until she finally comes upon a restaurant that doesn't look too absurd or overpriced. Even so, she feels woefully underdressed as she sits at a table alone, and wonders why she never thinks to pack an appropriate outfit for these situations that she keeps finding herself in.

_You would kill people if you wore the height of fashion_, she remembers Varric saying. A gross exaggeration, of course. She has always been plain, and time has not been kind to her. The taint has made her thin and wiry, always just a touch too pale, and her long hair is never tameable these days. Perhaps in another lifetime she would have been one of these people, strolling the promenade at night without a care in sight while the world burns under her nose. Now, she is just a firefighter, all soot and ash and graceless purpose.

“Bethany Hawke,” someone says, startling Bethany so badly that she nearly knocks her food across the table. 

It’s only then that she realizes that someone has slipped into the seat across from her, and she curses herself for allowing her focus to slip so far. Mistakes like that end in dead bodies in her line of work. But the person who has interrupted her solitary meal is not going to kill her, she’s pretty sure.

“Sister Leliana?” she asks, more a breath of winded surprise than anything.

She is instantly transported to Lothering, twelve or so years ago; to a young girl who was so lonely and isolated, full of constant fear, occasionally finding solace in the warm honey voice of a pretty Chantry Sister telling stories with enough enthusiasm to make Bethany forget, at least for a little while, that there was never going to be a happy ending for her. Maker, how long as it been since she’s thought of her? Leliana looks almost nothing like Bethany remembers, face shrouded in shadows cast by more than just the purple cowl draped over her head. Her lips are curled in a smirk as sharp as any arrow.

“When I heard that there were Grey Wardens asking after the Hero of Ferelden, I never imagined one of them would be you,” Leliana says. “Varric said your sister smuggled you out of the Free Marches.”

“Varric says a lot of things,” Bethany replies without thinking, but earns a small grin from Leliana.

“You’re looking well.”

“Am I?” Bethany retorts with an edge to her voice that she doesn’t really mean, but it’s a reflex that she has no control over. Rather than take offense, Leliana merely tips her head in something that might be an apology, like she understands. “What can I do for the Divine’s Left Hand?”

A waiter appears to see if Leliana would like something to eat or drink, but she waves him off. “I was curious to see why the Wardens were searching for Mahariel, especially after the rest have disappeared entirely.”

“What?” Bethany frowns. “There were plenty of Wardens still at Vigil’s Keep when we left Amaranthine.”

Leliana hums, looking troubled. “How much do you know about what’s going on out there?”

“The giant hole in the sky, you mean?” Bethany clarifies. Leliana nods. “Just that it poured demons for days before it closed up, and now the demons just sort of trickle in.”

“Have you heard anything about the Inquisition? The Herald of Andraste?”

“A few murmurs here and there. The Divine is gone,” Bethany replies, and Leliana’s face darkens gravely before she schools it again.

“The Herald is the one who closed the Breach,” Leliana tells her. ”She is the Maker’s chosen, some say.”

“And you believe that?” Bethany nearly snorts. In her experience, no one is favored by the Maker.

“Who can say?” Leliana replies wistfully. “But it cannot be a coincidence that she arrived with the means to seal the Breach right as we needed her most, no?”

Bethany has very little interest in speaking of theology these days, so she ignores the question. Instead, she says, “What does this have to do with the Wardens?”

“Perhaps nothing, though I doubt that’s true. The Breach did not appear out of thin air. It was created by someone—a name I think you’ll recognize. You remember Corypheus, yes?”

Her heart drops so fast that she nearly chokes on it, blood rushing in her ears, the Song roaring to life.

“That’s impossible,” Bethany whispers. “We killed him. I saw his body.”

“As did Varric and your sister,” Leliana agrees. “And yet, he has found a way to return.”

The pieces start falling into place, a rapid succession of discovery that leaves Bethany dizzy and nauseous by the end of it. If Corypheus is truly behind the chaos that’s happening in the world right now, that explains quite a lot about what’s been plaguing the Wardens these last months. And if the rest of them truly have disappeared, as Leliana says…she hates to think what that might mean for the Order. When they last faced Corypheus, he was weak from his slumber, and still Bethany felt the pull of his power in her bones. She pales thinking about what he can accomplish, the influence he can exert over them at full power.

“Before I began this quest to find the Warden-Commander, I was out on a scouting mission in the Free Marches,” Bethany begins after she’s collected herself. “I dreamed of a Song so sweet that it ached within my very soul, and when I woke from sleep, the Song followed. You know what I’m talking about.”

Leliana’s lips turn downward and her brow crumples. “The Calling? But it’s too soon for you.”

“Too soon for most of us,” Bethany agrees. “And yet every Grey Warden is hearing the same Song right now. If Corypheus truly lives, it would explain everything. He has power over tainted creatures.” She exhales shakily, struggling to organize her thoughts while the Song batters at her subconscious. “We need to go and find the other Wardens. Figure out what he’s done to them.”

“Bethany,” Leliana interrupts, placing a hand over Bethany’s on the table. Leliana is almost as cold as she is, like two glaciers brushing against one another. “I must ask you to continue your current quest.”

“And just leave the rest of my brethren to that monster?” Bethany asks, outraged.

“The Inquisitor is looking for the other Wardens as we speak. Your sister is helping,” Leliana assures her.

“Of course,” Bethany says with a rough laugh. “There never was a spot of trouble that Hawke didn’t manage to find herself in the thick of.”

“A family trait, I think, no?” Leliana says, wry grin gracing her lips. Bethany can’t argue with that, no matter how bitter she may be about it. Leliana’s face turns suddenly soft and she looks at Bethany imploringly with those pale eyes that dig like a pickaxe into ice. “Mahariel is more than just the hero of the Fifth Blight to me, Bethany. She is my heart. She seeks the cure for the Calling for me, to ensure that we might have more time together when all of this is over. Even if we defeat Corypheus, the true Calling will still come for her—for all of you. It would put me at ease if I knew that she had someone with her on this journey.”

Love, of course, is a driving factor in so many valiant quests. Bethany wonders what it feels like to have someone that you would be willing to cross entire lands for, just for the sheer hope that it might afford you another few decades of time together. But she’s long since dropped any delusions that she might be meant for such things, the way that she once imagined she was meant for silk dresses and grand balls. Her lot in life is cold duty while the very blood in her veins conspires to kill her every day.

Bethany sighs. “Tell Hawke not to do anything bloody stupid, though I know it’s nearly physically impossible for her to resist.”

“I will make sure she gets the message,” Leliana promises, smirk situated back on her face where it belongs. “Be well, Bethany.”

“Maker go with you,” Bethany replies, the words forming on her lips like the ghost of a girl that’s long since been laid to rest inside of her.

xx

_Go west of the Anderfels. My love seeks a cure in lands that have never known the Blight._

With Leliana’s guidance, they set off from Val Royeaux. If they find these blightless lands, Bethany thinks she may make a permanent home there. It would be nice to never see or smell another darkspawn again.

There’s no shortage of enemies along their path: more demons, a handful of blood mages, and now Templars that have been infected with red lyrium in a way that gives Bethany nightmares about Meredith Stannard for nearly a week after. 

Despite these obstacles, Velanna seems more at ease than Bethany has ever seen her. It’s clear that she’s in her element, traveling in the open air with minimal interaction with other people aside from Bethany. She collects various plants for eating and medicinal herbs for treating wounds, volunteering information about them freely whenever Bethany asks. The sunlight sets her skin aglow while they walk, and she’s quite beautiful like this, Bethany realizes with startling clarity. At night, Velanna scribbles in a journal, well worn and thick with ink already.

“What are you always writing in there?” Bethany asks over the campfire one evening. She’s managed to find some rabbits for them to eat. Bethany’s never been as good of a cook as her mother was, though anything that fills her belly is considered fine dining by this point.

Velanna’s face is guarded for a moment and she draws the book closer to her chest, as if Bethany could possibly read it from where she sits. “They’re stories. For the Dalish,” she says shortly, like she expects Bethany to have something nasty to say about that.

Bethany wracks her brain for her brief time spent in Kirkwall, listening to Merrill chatter happily about certain Dalish customs and tales in between burning lowlifes alive in back alleys. She hardly remembers any of it now; it might as well have been a dream. Or perhaps it’s just the Song addling her brain.

“You were the First in your clan, weren’t you?” Bethany asks. At Velanna’s curt nod, “You must know a lot of stories, then.”

“What few we have,” Velanna says with a hint of bitterness. Still, Bethany’s response has eased some of her tension. Her body relaxes slightly and she looks less like a cornered animal ready to snap at a moment’s notice. “Mahariel gave me a blank book years ago and I realized that I could use it to create new stories for our people since we’ve lost so much of our past.”

“That sounds like a worthy cause,” Bethany says, almost surprised by the kindness in her own voice and the genuine smile on her face, small though it may be. “You should have plenty to tell, between yourself and the Warden-Commander. I hear that the Inquisitor is Dalish as well.”

“Yes,” Velanna agrees, voice full of pride. She levels Bethany with a scrutinizing look. “You’re not so bad. For a shemlen.”

It’s so unexpected that Bethany barks out a laugh, genuinely delighted for the first time in what feels like a century.

xx

“You don’t like being a Grey Warden.” 

Bethany’s steps falter for a moment. It’s not a question, but no one has ever really asked her this before. She’s made her feelings on the matter perfectly clear to Hawke during their brief meetings over the years, and most other Grey Wardens wouldn’t think to discuss the topic. Whether any of them like it or not matters little when the situation is permanent.

“Endless hunger, constant cold, horrific nightmares, nausea around the darkspawn, and now this damnable Song…what’s not to like?” Bethany asks dryly. Velanna shoots her a look indicating that her facetiousness is not appreciated and Bethany shrugs. “I never wanted this. I spent my whole life hiding from the Templars, then running from the Blight. When my family moved to Kirkwall, I thought maybe it was a chance for a new start. All I’ve ever wanted was to be free, to have the opportunity to choose my own path without fear. Instead, I ended up with the taint in my veins, and my sister sent me with the Wardens hoping that it would save my life. I understand that the work we do is important, but this is no life that I would have chosen for myself. For a long time, I wished my sister had let the Blight take me instead.”

“You would take the cure then, if there is such a thing?” Velanna asks.

That’s not even a question that needs asking, in Bethany’s opinion. She would do anything to feel pure blood running through her veins again. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know where I would go,” Velanna says uncertainly. “I joined the Wardens to find my sister. I have no clan, no family. The Wardens gave me a home when I had none.”

_She’s lonely_, Bethany thinks, glancing at Velanna with a frown. Despite her discontent with her current situation, Bethany knows that she always has Hawke to come home to. There’s always Varric, or Isabela, or even Uncle Gamlen if she was truly desperate. Velanna has no one, aside from Mahariel perhaps, and that’s if the Warden-Commander can even be found. Bethany suddenly feels terribly ungrateful.

“You could find a new clan, couldn’t you?” she asks carefully. She’s not sure how lightly she needs to tread on this topic. Velanna is incredibly sensitive about matters pertaining to her people. “Or create one, maybe. I knew a Dalish elf back in Kirkwall who’s taken up the cause of helping elves in the Alienage there. You could go anywhere, do anything. Create your own history. You’re very brave, you know? The Dalish are lucky to have a hero like you.”

For a moment, Velanna looks as if she’s been struck, staring at Bethany with wide eyes. Then her cheeks stain pink and she quickly looks away. “Thank you. That’s…very kind of you to say.”

“For a shemlen, you mean,” Bethany teases, and Velanna’s mouth quirks up at the corner.

“Yes, for a shemlen.”

xx

She sees them from a distance, blue and white armor with silver griffons glinting in the sunlight, and breathes—_thank the Maker_—because since she spoke with Leliana, she’s just had this pervasive fear that all of the other Wardens were dead and she and Velanna (and perhaps the Warden-Commander) were the only two left in all of Thedas. The Song cries out, recognizing itself reflected in the others.

“Perhaps we can finally get some answers,” Velanna mutters as they approach.

It’s wishful thinking on Velanna’s part. The two men (no one Bethany recognizes) notice them when they get close enough for the taint to announce their presence. They take one look at the staves both women carry and the look they share immediately sets Bethany on edge.

“Keep your distance and don’t tell them anything,” she whispers to Velanna.

“What are you two doing out here?” one of the men asks once they’re close enough. “Warden-Commander Clarel ordered all mages to Adamant Fortress.”

Bethany thinks as quickly as she can, channels Hawke and Varric in equal measure and prays for the right response to come out of her mouth before Velanna has a chance to say anything detrimental. “We were far afield on assignment when we got the orders. We’ve been making haste since then.”

“Two mages on assignment alone?” the other Warden asks. Bethany’s hand tenses around her staff. “Are Fereldens so careless?”

Velanna scoffs. “Humans truly never fail to say the stupidest thing that comes to their mind at any given moment,” she says scathingly. 

Bethany releases a puff of breath. So much for avoiding confrontation. The first Warden reaches for his sword and Bethany grounds herself, feels frost snaking up into the palm of her hand.

“I don’t believe that you are on your way to Adamant. I think you are both deserters attempting to escape your duty to the Order.”

Bethany says, “Unfortunate,” at the same time that Velanna growls, “That is an assumption you will pay dearly for,” and then they are both casting before either of the men can make it into sword range. 

Velanna’s magic has always felt wild and primal in comparison to Bethany’s carefully controlled practice. She bends the very earth to her will on a whim, as if the trees themselves are called to do her bidding. It’s a breathless sort of magic, full of righteous anger that would destroy anything in its path if Velanna allowed it. There have been a few occasions during their travels when Bethany has had to move quickly for fear of getting upended by a tree root or pummeled by a giant boulder. Now, however, they have fallen into an effortless sync. Velanna summons roots from the ground that snap up and enclose both Wardens in a cage of sorts while Bethany embraces the cold in her veins, allows it to fill her up until it leaves her fingertips in a rush, encasing the roots in a wall of thick ice. Velanna’s hands clench, poised to finish the job, but Bethany stills her with a hand on her arm.

“Leave them,” Bethany urges gently. “We’ll be long gone by the time they make it out of here.”

“Why would they attack us?” Velanna demands, nostrils flaring.

“It’s Corypheus’ influence,” Bethany says. “But why are they ordering mages to Adamant Fortress?”

There are so many potential explanations, each worse than the last, and Bethany feels her panic grow the more she thinks about it. Velanna seems to sense it, frowns at her with something like understanding.

“That’s for the Inquisition to figure out now,” she says. “We have to keep moving.”

She’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop every fiber of Bethany’s being from screaming at her to run to the aid of her fellow mages, apparently always in danger no matter where they take shelter.

xx

When it happens, it’s unexpected, though in hindsight maybe it shouldn’t be. They’ve had a scuffle with some Red Templars earlier in the day; Bethany is the one injured this time, having taken an arrow to her staff arm. Velanna is a much better healer than she’ll ever be, and by the time she’s done tending the wound, it’s almost as if nothing ever happened. She thanks Velanna for her help, looks up to find a frown on the elf’s face and green eyes shining in the firelight, and—

Velanna’s lips cover hers unexpectedly, a little sloppily. _Oh_, Bethany thinks dully as the Song fades away entirely for the first time in months, and then she brings her hand up to Velanna’s cheek, holds her in place and kisses her back. 

Bethany is no stranger to this kind of interaction between Wardens. The Order discourages relationships, but there’s scarcely one among them who hasn’t reached for a fellow companion in the terrible damp darkness of the Deep Roads at least once. It doesn’t have to be about love, and in Bethany’s case has almost always been a desperate search for comfort, an effort to just _feel something _other than self-loathing and anger for once. Her most recent dalliance had been when she shagged Nathaniel a few years ago, not long after having a row with her sister in the Deep Roads. Not one of her finest moments, though mostly because he’d been so bloody gallant about it all that it nearly ruined the mood entirely.

Velanna approaches kissing like she does almost everything else in life—with immense pride and a little bit of uncertainty, like she’s copying something she’s seen once but isn’t quite sure if she’s doing it right; is determined to figure it out if it kills her. She ends up straddling Bethany’s lap, gripping both sides of her face while she brings their lips together over and over again. Bethany is content to allow it until her stomach is warm and pleasantly buzzing with the anticipation of something more.

When Velanna pulls away with labored breaths and a small frown on her face, Bethany pushes a bit of flaxen hair out of her eyes and says, “We can stop whenever you like.” Velanna’s jaw tightens with something like determination and Bethany presses her back onto the ground. She wonders vaguely if this is how the Dalish normally take lovers, under the open sky with the sureness of the grass beneath their backs, and then quickly stops wondering anything at all.

xx

It’s more than just comfort. She actually likes Velanna’s company and has known that for a while now, and this…whatever it is between them is more natural than she was expecting. Bethany thinks about this as she watches Velanna write in her journal two nights later and finds herself admiring the sharpness of Velanna’s face and the way that her cheeks color when she realizes that she’s being examined.

_Fancy another tumble? _she thinks of saying, but even she’s not that tactless, so when Velanna walks by her an hour later, Bethany grabs her by the arm and pulls her close, swallows Velanna’s little gasp with her lips. The pleasant warmth that settles in her stomach and muffles the Song like a blanket is every bit as good as the way that Velanna arches into her and breaks with a soft cry ghosting across the shell of Bethany’s ear.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Velanna says later, when they’re dressed again and sitting close.

“For a shemlen,” Bethany offers with a lazy grin.

Velanna merely hums, but the answer is clear anyway. Bethany wonders when the differences between human and elf stopped actually mattering between them.

xx

It takes a few more weeks to cross over into the Anderfels. Their time spent together is pleasant, punctuated by the familiarity that comes after sleeping with someone that you actually like. They carry on like that on the nights that they’ve found a relatively private spot to camp. They talk about childhood, about family, and Bethany finds that it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it would.

The tension comes as the days stretch on and they wander closer and closer to uncharted territory. The further they get from Orlais, the more the Song starts to fade, but so too does their sense of direction. Beyond this, there can’t be a soul in the world who knows where the Warden-Commander actually is.

Velanna’s irritation is palpable. She scowls so deeply that Bethany begins to wonder if her face will be stuck like that one day. She complains about everything—food, weather, the arid smell

of the air and the dusty earth they trample over for hours on end. Bethany is no mind reader, but she knows what Velanna isn’t saying that’s got her so on edge.

_We’re out of our depth. We can’t walk the whole world. We’ll never find her._

Bethany suspects that it’s probably the truth. And if they never find the Warden-Commander, they’ll never find the cure. What will the point have been then?

They don’t talk about it. They keep walking, too afraid to turn back and admit defeat.

xx

The smell wakes her before anything. The scent of dog is as distinct to a Ferelden nose as deceit is to an Orlesian. Bethany wakes to Velanna lying half on top of her, having fallen asleep shortly after they exhausted one another relieving some of their pent up frustration. As a low growl sounds behind her, she curses their carelessness.

It’s a pack of wolves, at least six or seven. Their golden eyes gleam in the moonlight as they sniff around for something worthwhile. Bethany elbows Velanna in the chest, trying to make as little noise as possible, and then covers the elf’s mouth with her hand to prevent her from protesting when she wakes up. They have one chance to spring an attack without being completely mauled in the process.

Bethany glances at her companion, finds her green eyes darting around as she tries to make the same calculations that Bethany has. How many can they take out with one spell each? Their eyes meet and Velanna’s lips thin in grim acceptance. Less thinking, more doing. Bethany nods. 

They launch their magic together. Bethany engulfs one of the wolves in bright flames and tries to ignore the horrible yelping sounds it makes, focuses instead on the snarling of two others as their attention is drawn to her. She extends her palm and feels the ice shard form and solidify before it flies in the direction of one of them. 

The other is already leaping towards her, jaws snapping and massive paws outstretched towards her chest. Bethany readies herself for impact, but it never comes. An arrow whistles past her head and embeds itself into the wolf’s neck. The creature falls to the ground, gurgling at her feet. Bethany stares at it in disbelief for a moment before she turns to try to find the source of the arrow. She sees Warden armor several feet away, the wearer firing arrows at the remaining wolves who have their sights set on Velanna, and her heart leaps to her throat.

When all of the creatures have fallen, the archer jogs toward them. Velanna is stiff and poised to attack, no doubt still suspicious after their last encounter with some of their brethren. But as the woman draws nearer, Velanna’s body nearly sags in relief. Bethany doesn’t need introductions to know why. One look at the vallaslin on her face is enough.

“Velanna?” Mahariel says, brows furrowed over eyes as clear and crystalline as a still lake. “I saw the mage fire and thought someone was in trouble. What are you doing out here?”

“Aneth ara, lethallan,” Velanna responds, smile growing tired now that some of the battle adrenaline is wearing off. “We were looking for you. Apparently your human knows my human. She told us where to look.”

Bethany thinks that maybe she should take offense at being referred to like a possession, but the way that Velanna glances fondly in her direction when she says it is so endearing that she can already feel a small grin twisting at her lips. Mahariel’s eyes settle on Bethany for the first time since her arrival, assessing, but not unkind.

“Most people just call me Bethany,” she supplies dryly, and the Warden-Commander offers her a knowing smirk.

“Good to meet you Bethany. Let me help you clear your camp.”

They drag the bodies of the wolves off to the side together and then settle in around the few remaining embers of the fire, which Bethany quickly rekindles with magic. The sky is beginning to pale with dawn’s approach, but Bethany realizes suddenly and with a strange sense of anxiety that they’ve got nowhere else to be. Their mission was to find Mahariel, and they succeeded. Perhaps it was the other way around, but that’s of little consequence. The Song buzzes faintly, just enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“You’ve been away for ages, Mahariel,” Velanna says with a hint of predictable irritation lacing her voice. Bethany tries not to roll her eyes as she hands out a small breakfast. “Do you have any idea what’s going on back in the real world?”

Mahariel frowns deeply, eyes going dark with introspection. Bethany studies her profile and tries to imagine what she must have looked like a decade ago, barely an adult and with the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Yes. The Inquisitor got a letter to me not long ago explaining the details. Something about a tear in the Void and a false Calling plaguing the Wardens.”

“The Calling is why we came looking for you,” Bethany explains. “Nathaniel told us that you were searching for a cure. He thought it might help us all.”

“Of course,” Mahariel murmurs, and then falls silent.

“Well?” Velanna says impatiently. “Did you find anything?”

The second that Mahariel takes to answer seems to last a lifetime. Bethany waits and waits, heart beating furiously in her chest. But the tightening of the Warden-Commander’s jaw is answer enough. “No. Not yet.”

Bethany closes her eyes against the onslaught of disappointment. Her stomach roils with nausea, anger boiling like the fire in her veins, then icing over into desolate hopelessness. When she opens her eyes, she finds Mahariel’s gaze settled on her, apologetic, like she’s somehow just read all of Bethany’s thoughts. Like she understands.

“When I got the Inquisitor’s letter, I decided to halt my search for the time being. Things sounded bad, and…” She pauses, eyes flickering over to look into the fire ahead. “I began this quest in an effort to buy myself more time with Leliana. But if the world is truly at risk of ending, then I need to be by her side. Whatever time we have left, I want to spend it with her.”

For a moment, Bethany thinks she might reach out and shake her—strangle her, even. What is love to a Grey Warden whose days are already numbered? How can Mahariel allow this selfishness to come between Bethany and her cure? The moment passes and Bethany’s anger fades. She has no right to it. Mahariel has already given enough of herself. She deserves peace, even if it means that Bethany never gets to know it herself.

“You always were a lovesick fool,” Velanna says, but her voice is soft; nothing near the chastisement that Bethany would normally expect. 

Mahariel smiles wistfully into the fire. “I plan to stop at Weisshaupt on my way to Skyhold. You’re welcome to come with me. I’ve been on my own for so long now; I’d be glad of the company.”

Velanna glances at Bethany for input, but there’s no need for discussion. They’ve got nothing else to do. They have nowhere else to be.

xx

Arms wrap around Bethany’s neck and pull her into a crushing hug that nearly knocks the wind out of her before she truly has a chance to even register what’s happening.

“Beth,” Hawke sighs into her ear, so relieved it almost sounds painful. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Bethany buries her face in Hawke’s neck and breathes in the familiar scent of leather armor. For a moment, she pretends that she is a young girl again, sinking into the safety of her sister’s arms after a terrifying nightmare. When she opens her eyes, she remembers that the nightmare is real; something she’ll never escape.

For a moment, the Song skips and trills triumphantly down her spine.

xx

They spend their first day at Weisshaupt listening to Hawke’s story about the events at Adamant Fortress. Bethany physically recoils at the idea that any Warden would be so stupid as to resort to blood sacrifices and demonic possession for a chance to end the Blights entirely. She remembers the lengths that her father went to in order to bind Corypheus to his prison and wonders if she would ever be so desperate for anything. She’d sooner take Velanna into the Deep Roads to go searching for Seranni until it killed them both.

_Come home_ the Song sings at the mere suggestion, and Bethany swallows down her nausea once more.

The realization that Alistair has been trapped physically in the Raw Fade and is likely dead by now shakes Mahariel deeply. She excuses herself from the conversation, leaving Bethany and Velanna alone with Hawke. At her sister’s prompting, Bethany recounts some of their travels, teeth grinding as she nears the inevitable conclusion where they’ve found the Warden-Commander, but no cure for the Calling.

“I’m sorry, Beth,” Hawke says, lightning-blue eyes swimming with sorrow and guilt. 

Bethany bites her tongue to keep from lashing out. Remembers that she’s only alive and breathing today because her sister made a choice that neither one of them will ever really recover from. “It’s alright, Sister,” she says tightly. “It was a long shot anyway.”

In the middle of the night, Bethany lies in her bed and stares at the ceiling in the dark, wishing for an eternal sleep to overtake her and then wondering if she actually means that. She hears Velanna sigh and shift in the other bed, then the sound of feet padding across the cold stone floor. The mattress dips as Velanna slips in beside her.

“Stop thinking so much,” Velanna demands, and then her lips are pressing kisses to Bethany’s throat, so gentle they make the backs of Bethany’s eyeballs burn.

_No_, Bethany thinks immediately, answering her own question from earlier. She doesn’t actually mean it. At least not now.

xx

The archives at Weisshaupt are big enough to house the entire Royal Ferelden Army and then some. The four of them spend an entire day flicking through dusty old tomes that haven’t been touched in centuries, in some cases. Most of them are nothing more than dry accounts of Deep Roads expeditions and efforts against ancient Blights. By the end of the seventh hour, Bethany suspects that her eyeballs might be ready to bleed at any moment. She looks up at Velanna, who has been reading voraciously all day as though she’d rather be doing nothing else, several feet away.

“She’s fond of you,” a voice says quietly behind her, and Bethany startles. She turns to find Mahariel smiling softly. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen her look at any other human the way she looks at you.”

Bethany can’t fathom why those words have her blushing as if she’s still some young maiden from Lothering who’s never had a lover before. As if she and Velanna haven’t been sleeping together for the past few weeks now. Perhaps it’s different having an outside perspective. Perhaps Mahariel’s opinion weighs more.

“I’m not so bad for a shemlen, or so she tells me,” Bethany agrees.

“Practically a marriage proposal, coming from her,” Mahariel chuckles. Her expression sobers after a moment. “She told me how heavily you were hoping for a cure. I’m sorry I didn’t have better news.”

Throat tightening painfully, Bethany shrugs. “It was foolish of me to believe. You’d think after ten years of this that I’d be over it by now.”

“There is no shame in wanting a better future for yourself,” Mahariel says seriously, warm hand coming to rest on Bethany’s arm. “I didn’t get a choice in this either. I was a victim of cruel circumstance. Becoming a Warden saved my life, but there’s no use in pretending that the cost isn’t sometimes too great to bear.” Bethany tries not to choke on the sound that rises out of her throat at those words. “If not for Leliana, I don’t know if I would have made it through the Blight, let alone for this long after. I’ve paid my service to the Wardens, as have you. We both deserve freedom if it exists.”

The validation in those words makes Bethany’s eyes water. She exhales heavily. “Do you hear it? The Song?”

“Yes. Faintly, but it’s there. Sorrowful. It reminds me of places I’ve never been and people I’ve never met. I think it sounds like Arlathan.”

“Mine keeps telling me to come home,” Bethany admits. “But it’s a lie. I have no home to go to.”

“You’ll make one,” Mahariel promises. “If we survive Corypheus, I’m going to keep searching. We haven’t come all this way just to fall to our knees in the Deep Roads someday where no one will ever find us.”

Promises have made nothing but a fool out of Bethany all these years. Mahariel is so full of conviction, eyes hardened with determination and shining like gemstones that Bethany wants to believe, wants to allow herself to fall into the trap of hoping one last time. _Is this how you got them all to follow you? _she wants to ask. _Is this why Leliana fell in love with you?_

“I see I’m doing all the work as usual,” Velanna says, dropping a heavy book on the table beside them and causing Bethany’s heart to nearly leap straight out of her chest. 

“Just taking an opportunity to get to know ‘your human’, lethallan,” Mahariel responds wryly. 

Velanna blushes appropriately at that. “Well stop it. I’ve found something interesting.”

Bethany gestures for Hawke to join them as Velanna points out a passage in the tome that must have been written sometime around the First Blight.

“The corruption can be cleansed by the blood of the dragon,” Hawke reads aloud.

“What is this account?” Mahariel frowns. “I’ve never seen or heard of this before.”

“It’s an extremely long and dry collection of journals from one of the first Grey Wardens, written after the end of the First Blight,” Velanna explains. “Likely hidden away in the archives because no one thought it was very important.”

“Or because they didn’t want anyone getting any ideas about curing the taint,” Hawke surmises, sharing a look with Bethany.

“Blood of the dragon,” Bethany muses softly, anticipation swirling deep within the pit of her stomach. “Do you think it means real dragons?”

Mahariel hums and takes the book. “Hard to say. I’ll take this and read it tonight in full to see if there’s anything else. It’s the first real clue we’ve found since I started this journey. Ma serannas, Velanna. You’ve done well.”

Velanna looks up, green eyes latching onto Bethany’s copper, and Bethany feels a soft smile grace her lips. Velanna mirrors it, then scowls and quickly retreats when she notices Hawke staring at them with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“What?” Bethany asks, directing a glare at her sister. 

“Nothing,” Hawke says, hands held up in a show of faux innocence. “I’m happy for you two. But I’m just wondering…does this mean I can tell Sister Leliana about the massive crush you had on her when you were younger?”

Bethany blushes furiously in a way that she can scarcely remember doing since before she became a Warden and smacks her sister’s arm. Hawke chuckles delightedly, kisses Bethany on the cheek, and saunters away.

xx

The trip to Skyhold takes several weeks, but it feels shorter with the added company. Velanna and Mahariel bicker and tease each other like siblings, while Hawke enjoys making Bethany glare by raising an eyebrow or winking every time Bethany and Velanna are within six inches of one another. But for as exasperating as she can be, Bethany hadn’t realized just how empty it was without having her sister near. It pains her to remember how cold and distant she’d been on the few opportunities she had to be near Hawke over the years. The love that Hawke has for her is blatant every time they lock eyes, and Bethany hopes that whatever the future holds, it allows for more chances to make up for the lost time between them.

In the middle of their journey, the sky splits in a flash of sickly green. Bethany’s stomach curdles at the feeling of the Veil shifting around them as the Breach reopens. The Song soars to a near deafening crescendo that makes her skin itch and her head pound behind her eyes. Corypheus is too near for comfort. One glance at Mahariel confirms that she feels it, too. Her gaze clouds with discomfort and something that Bethany can only assume is sheer terror. 

Fingers intertwine with her own in the darkness and she looks over to find Velanna staring at her, jaw tight and expression pained. Bethany squeezes her hand and Velanna squeezes back. They don’t let go for the rest of the night.

Days later, the Breach closes in a massive explosion that makes the very earth tremble around them. Bethany falters midstep, falling to her knees as the Fade is closed off once more and balance is restored. Her fingers curl into the snow beneath them and she closes her eyes, searching for strength, attempting to regain focus and continue her constant combat against the will of the Song.

Instead, she’s met with blessed, blissful silence. For the first time in months, her blood stills and she is left only with her own thoughts once more. She feels an arm around her waist, hauling her back to her feet. Hawke fusses over her, pushing Bethany’s long curls out of her face, but Bethany’s eyes search out her fellow Wardens and find their expressions slackened with sheer relief.

“Beth, talk to me,” Hawke demands worriedly. “Are you hurt? You’re crying.”

Bethany only notices the tear tracks freezing on her cheeks when Hawke mentions them, but they are a welcome revelation. She laughs and smiles so wide that her skin stretches uncomfortably from the cold.

“I’m fine,” she replies, voice laced with wonder. “She did it. It’s over.”

She walks a straight line toward Velanna, grasping the woman’s face in her hands as soon as she’s in reach, and kisses her deeply. Velanna nearly stumbles with the impact, but she recovers quickly, arms fitting around Bethany’s waist as they revel in the first taste of one another without the intrusion of the Song lingering just under their tongues.

“It’s over,” Velanna repeats against Bethany’s lips when they part, and her smile is enough to ward off any cold.

xx

Leliana nearly tackles Mahariel on sight when they finally turn up in the war room at Skyhold. Her pale hands trace the sides of the Warden-Commander’s face as if she’s trying to determine the veracity of her presence, eyes glassy with emotion as she murmurs soft words that only the two of them can hear. It’s only when Commander Cullen finally clears his throat uncomfortably that they separate, but Ambassador Montilyet has a smile on her face that says that she would have allowed the reunion to continue on for days if necessary.

After some explanation of their journey and findings, Leliana suggests that they speak with Fiona, who is still present at Skyhold. Inquisitor Lavellan points them to the library, where they find the Grand Enchanter looking even more worn and wary than she was when Bethany last saw her months ago. The regret swimming behind her eyes speaks volumes, and Bethany wonders for a moment if it’s worth living longer if it means being so haunted by your own mistakes.

“Good to see you all again,” Fiona greets them again in a tone that clearly says the opposite.

Mahariel inclines her head respectfully. “Grand Enchanter. We hope not to take up too much of your time. We’ve uncovered a new piece of information since I last saw you. I was hoping it might mean something to you.” She nods at Velanna to indicate that she should share.

“One of the journals in the archives at Weisshaupt spoke of a way to cleanse the taint,” Velanna begins. “By using the blood of the dragon.”

Fiona considers that information with a frown that does nothing to foster Bethany’s confidence in her knowledge.

“I know that you don’t know how you came to be cured, but we were hoping that this information would shed light on any details that may have otherwise seemed inconsequential,” Maharial explains.

“I am sorry,” Fiona says shaking her head, “but I fear that I must disappoint you again. I’ve never even seen a dragon, aside from the skulls that the Inquisitor has brought back in her travels.”

Bethany clenches her fist and tries to calm her boiling blood at this setback. She’s not sure how much more she can take.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else about what happened to you prior to your cure that you can remember?” Hawke asks, narrowing her eyes. “No details that you might be leaving out?”

Fiona trains her eyes on Hawke, expression hard and jaw tight. Then her gaze flicks over to study Mahariel, and all of the fight suddenly leaves her in an instant. Her shoulders sag and she looks so tired that she might simply fade away in front of their eyes.

“I had thought to take this secret to my grave, but I suppose there’s little use now,” she says weakly. “There is a part of the story that I never told anyone. During our journey to stop the Architect from abusing the Grey Wardens, King Maric travelled with us into the Deep Roads. He and I became…involved. I fell pregnant with his child. After the child was born, I gave him to his father under the promise that he never be told of his true parentage. I believe you know of whom I speak.”

Mahariel’s face drains of blood and Leliana places a steadying hand on her back. The Warden-Commander exhales shakily, hand gripping at the back of a nearby chair until her knuckles turn white. “You’re Alistair’s mother.”

“Yes,” Fiona says, grimacing at the ice in Mahariel’s voice. “He was here, you know. I watched him from the shadows. I thought about telling him who I was, but then I wondered why I should do that. For my own selfishness? There was no sense in telling him that his whole life was a lie; that he was half elf. So I never spoke to him. I suppose if I’d known then what would happen…”

“He loved you,” Mahariel snaps, and Bethany can scarcely believe the venom she’s hearing from the usually calm Warden-Commander. “He talked to me about you endlessly when we travelled together. He would spend whole nights imagining what you were like and if you would have been proud of who he turned out to be. Your selfishness was in being too afraid to face him truthfully. He would have been ecstatic to meet you. He never would have cared who you were or what lies he’d been told before. He was a good man and he deserved more than your cowardice!”

“Perhaps we should take a moment, my love,” Leliana murmurs, gently urging Mahariel to step away from the group. She leads them up to the rookery, leaving Bethany, Velanna, and Hawke to stand in awkward silence with a downtrodden Fiona.

“She’s right,” Fiona says quietly. “I was a coward. But it makes little difference. I must live with my mistakes, as I always have.” She glances at the three of them wearily. “I am sorry that I have nothing more to offer you.”

“Actually, I think you may have finally given us something useful,” Velanna interjects. “King Maric was a direct descendent of Calenhad. According to Qunari legend, Calenhad gained his strength by killing and drinking the blood of a Great Dragon. That dragon’s blood is said to have carried through his line.” Bethany stares at Velanna, mouth parted in disbelief and stomach lurching as the pieces begin to fall into place. “What? All of the books in Amaranthine are about shemlen, so now my head is filled with useless facts about them.”

“Not so useless, apparently,” Hawke quips with a raised brow.

“Honestly, I could kiss you,” Bethany says, causing Velanna to blush and huff in agitation.

“As enlightening as that information is,” Fiona interrupts, “I’m afraid it still leaves you at a dead end. With Alistair gone, the Theirin line is officially extinguished.”

“No,” Mahariel says, drawing attention to her reappearance from the rookery. “It isn’t.”

xx

“No,” Morrigan says resolutely, with a finality that begs no argument. 

Bethany stands off to the side, examining the witch with both caution and interest. The large bandage on her leg speaks of the injury she sustained in battle, though she looks like she’d already be far away from this place if she had her way. Bethany can recognize the strength of the mana in her even at a distance, tightly controlled, but wild and unpredictable. The boy at her side clearly favors his mother in looks—all dark hair and fair skin and eyes far too searching for comfort. Bethany wonders if he knows that he has the blood of kings running through his veins. Does he care?

“You have been a great friend to me through the years,” Morrigan continues, “but you must know that you ask too much.”

Mahariel has no qualms about Morrigan’s wild energy, dangerous like a cornered animal. She stands close and gazes upon the witch with kind, pleading eyes. “I’m not asking for anything that you’re not willing to give, Morrigan. You know that I would never hurt that child.”

“It’s true then?” Leliana interrupts. She keeps more of a respectable distance than her lover, regarding Morrigan with something that looks a lot like distrust. “You have the knowledge of the Well now. You must know if we’re on the right path.”

“Yes,” Morrigan sighs after a moment. “‘Tis true that the Theirin bloodline holds the key to the cure. But regardless of this fact, I will not have a trove of Grey Wardens coming after my son simply for the hope of escaping their fates.”

“Mother,” Kieran says quietly, small fingers tracing over the griffon on Mahariel’s armor. Morrigan’s eyes bleed distress as she looks upon her son, like she already knows what he’s going to say before it even comes out of his mouth. “I want to help the Grey Wardens. For Father.”

Morrigan closes her eyes and exhales heavily. Mahariel places a gentle hand atop the boy’s head and smooths over his hair.

“Your father was proud of you, da’len. He wouldn’t have wanted any harm to come to you.”

“But he would have helped, if he could,” Kieran says knowingly. He looks back at Morrigan. “Please, Mother.”

Morrigan grits her teeth in defeat. Bethany breathes a sigh of relief.

xx

The potion takes several days to brew before Morrigan is satisfied with it. She presents only one dose of it with the caveat that it will either work as intended, or it will kill whomever drinks it.

“I’ll take it,” Bethany offers immediately.

Velanna balks. “Why would you risk your life?” she asks indignantly, hand gripping at Bethany’s wrist to keep her in place. Bethany offers her a small smile.

“I’ve had the misfortune of knowing the sound of the Calling before my time. I have no intention of ever hearing it again,” she says calmly. “I will be free of this taint one way or another.”

“I am unsure if I should call you stupid or brave,” Morrigan says, but she hands over the potion regardless.

Bethany hesitates only for as long as it takes to make eye contact with Velanna and her sister, to burn the image of their faces into her memory in case this is the last time she sees them before going to the Maker’s side. Then she tips the vial into her mouth and swallows the thick red liquid in one go.

It’s only the second time that she’s ever willingly drank blood. The first time, she was mere minutes away from death, hoping every second that the corruption crawling through her veins and tearing at her organs would simply kill her instead. When the foul darkspawn blood slid over her tongue and caused her throat to close up and her head to explode with the most horrendous pain she’d ever experienced, she prayed to find herself at Carver and Malcolm’s sides the next time she opened her eyes.

Now, the blood that she drinks is not quite as foul, but the pain that it causes is every bit as horrible as the first time. The corruption in her blood rebels at the intrusion of its enemy. Her skin feels like it’s on fire, but everything inside of her has gone ice cold. She breaks out in a sweat as she retches and falls onto her knees. Hawke and Velanna call out to her, but she can’t hear their voices. Her vision swims in front of her and she thinks she may scream, but the world turns black and swallows her whole before she can find out.

xx

The first thing she notices is that she can’t smell anymore. But that’s not right; she _can_ smell, but it’s fainter than before. There’s a heavy hand resting on her forehead, cool and soft, brushing the hair back from her face. She focuses on the feeling of that hand while she breathes, trying to determine what she’s going to find when she finally opens her eyes. Part of her is convinced that it will be Leandra sitting by her side, gazing down on her with adoration while Carver stands by and scoffs about her being dramatic.

Bethany finally takes a deep breath and cracks her eyelids open slowly. The room around her is dark, but there’s enough candlelight for her to see meadow eyes staring back at her anxiously. She hasn’t seen Velanna look this worried about her in the entire time they’ve known each other.

“Do I look that bad then?” Bethany asks, voice dry and cracked like sandpaper. Velanna quickly brings a cup to her lips and Bethany gratefully gulps down some of the cold water contained within.

“You nearly died,” Velanna huffs. “Are you truly worried about how you look?”

“That depends. Are you still interested in sleeping with me despite my appearance?” Bethany quips. Velanna snorts and rolls her eyes.

The door to the room opens and Hawke pokes her head in. “Beth,” she breathes, rushing over to her bedside. “I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I spent three consecutive days drinking at the Hanged Man with Isabela,” Bethany replies, and Hawke chuckles. Bethany takes a moment to actually consider the question seriously, and as she examines herself, she realizes suddenly that her body feels lighter than it has in over a decade. The sluggish corruption running through her veins is gone, as if it were never there in the first place. Instead, it’s just the warm blaze of mana racing under her skin. “I feel…clean.”

“I can’t recognize the taint in you anymore,” Velanna murmurs. Bethany’s face stretches into a slow smile and Hawke mirrors it, reaching for Bethany’s hand. 

“You’re free, Bethy,” she says.

“Yes,” Bethany agrees, thinking that she only now understands the meaning of the word after thirty years of dreaming about it.

xx

Morrigan concocts two more batches of the cure under the condition that none of them breathes a word about how they obtained it. Mahariel agrees, promising to take the news of it to the Wardens and help them to decide how to handle the information. If they have any interest in it, she will instruct Avernus to have them search for Great Dragons and try to reverse-engineer the cure that way. Kieran’s involvement will remain a secret.

The Warden-Commander takes her cure immediately under Leliana’s watchful eye. While she recovers, Bethany takes the time to explore the world through untainted eyes once more. Though her senses have dulled considerably, she is astounded by just how clear and bright everything appears. It’s as if a fog has been lifted from her; as though she’s been born anew. She has the entire world at her feet and nothing but time and joyful appreciation for everything around her.

She finds Velanna in her room one evening, turning the potion vial over in her hand, staring at it like it holds the key to answers she can’t access. The elf glances up at her when she enters the room, eyes full of doubt and uncertainty.

“The Dalish elf who helped discover the cure for the Calling,” Bethany says lightly, perching on the edge of the bed next to Velanna. “That’s got to be something for your history books.”

Velanna hums, but doesn’t respond. Her fingernails tap restlessly on the side of the vial. Bethany reaches out to still them, covering Velanna’s hand with her own.

“You don’t have to make a decision now. You don’t have to do it ever, if you don’t want to.”

“Is it everything you thought it would be?” Velanna asks.

“Yes,” Bethany says resolutely. “More so. Up until a few months ago, I had resigned myself to being imprisoned in this life until I died. I never thought that I would have the opportunity to choose my own destiny.”

“And what will you do now?”

“I don’t know,” Bethany shrugs with a small laugh. “Hawke is leaving to meet up with Isabela soon. I think I might join them for a while.”

Velanna sighs and clenches the vial in her hand. “I never dreamed of freedom. The only thing I ever cared about was my sister, and she’s long gone. Mahariel suggested that I could stay on with the Inquisition and use its resources to discover more about our history.”

“Do you think that’s something you’d like to do?” Bethany asks carefully. Velanna smiles ruefully.

“The only thing I know is that if I return to the Wardens, I’ll spend the rest of my life searching in the shadows for Seranni until they swallow me.”

Bethany lifts her hand, gently fitting a few loose strands of hair behind Velanna’s ear. She traces the tip of it with her fingers, watching the small shiver that races down Velanna’s spine at the action. “I hope you know that you deserve better than that.”

“What I deserve is of little consequence,” Velanna objects. “But I think…I think I’d like to do something more than disappear while chasing after a memory.” She opens her hand and looks down at the vial again, this time with something more like determination in the set of her jaw. “Will you stay with me while it takes effect?”

“Of course,” Bethany promises with a smile. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

xx

They stay until they receive word from Isabela that she has a ship waiting for them at Gwaren. Hawke pales at the memories of their last trip from that port, but she gathers supplies for their journey with Josephine’s assistance while Bethany makes her farewells. She shares a hug with Leliana, who thanks her for taking the time to track Mahariel down and ensuring her safe return. The Hero of Ferelden clasps Bethany by the forearm and wishes her luck in her new life.

“Enjoy it, lethallan. You’ve certainly earned it,” she says with twinkling blue eyes.

“Hardly as much as you have,” Bethany protests and Mahariel laughs.

“You got Velanna to fall in love with a human in the span of a few months, a feat that I would have deemed impossible even in a lifetime. Even our odds during the Blight were better than that.” Leliana tsks at her lover, but smirks at the joke despite herself. “Don’t worry about her, by the way. She’s unsure now, but she’ll find a purpose here. And I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Bethany feels tension that she didn’t realize she was holding ease at the promise. She thanks them both and turns away to find the woman in question. Velanna is hidden away in the library, already taking advantage of the extensive book collection. She glances up at Bethany’s approach, regarding her with a nervousness that Bethany finds endearing.

“You’re leaving,” Velanna says.

“Soon,” Bethany agrees. She steps closer, removing a book from Velanna’s hands to set it aside. They kiss softly, and when Bethany pulls away, Velanna looks at her like she’s still struggling to figure something out.

“I’ll miss you,” she says finally, so quiet that Bethany wouldn’t have heard it if she weren’t so close.

“Well, I’ve been told I’m not so bad,” Bethany teases. “For a shemlen, that is.”

“Shut up,” Velanna grumbles, and kisses her again.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Bethany says when they part.

Velanna’s lips quirk up into a smile, and Bethany memorizes that image to take with her wherever she goes.

xx

The docks at Denerim surge with life in the middle of a hot summer day. The high noon sun beats down on sailors, merchants, and travelers as they mill about, reflecting off of the water in the bay and warming the worn wood underfoot. Bethany stands on the deck of a ship, long hair piled messily on top of her head and thin dress blowing with the light breeze that passes over the water. It’s been well over a year since she last set foot in Ferelden, but the smell of it is still familiar. 

“Wet dog, sailor piss, and sex,” Isabela says unprompted as she comes to stand by Bethany’s side. “Never changes here.”

“That’s like pheromones to you, isn’t it?” Hawke quips from behind, placing a teasing kiss on Isabela’s cheek.

“Hmm, I was just thinking about a stop at the Pearl,” Isabela agrees. “Oh, but look what we have here.”

Bethany follows her gaze down to the docks where a tall, blonde elf approaches. The woman glances around the harbor, mild distaste evident in the curl of her lips, and Bethany’s face splits in a wide grin.

“Not bad, sweetness,” Isabela says appreciatively, but Bethany is already disembarking the ship.

She jogs down the ramp and across the docks, coming to a halt just before she crashes into the other woman. Velanna meets her cautiously, carefully appraising Bethany’s unfamiliar appearance. Bethany allows it for just a moment before taking Velanna’s face in her hands and kissing her with more longing than she even knew she’d been harboring. The uncertainty has disappeared from Velanna’s face by the time they part, eyes soft and lips tugging upward in a small smile.

“You clean up well,” Bethany murmurs, appreciatively fingering the edges the green shift that Velanna wears, revealing more cleavage than Bethany would have suspected of her. 

Velanna’s cheeks flush at the compliment. “So do you. I like your hair like this.” Her fingers tangle in a stray curl that’s fallen into Bethany’s eyes, pushing it back behind her ear. Bethany traces the faint lines of Velanna’s vallaslin with her fingertips and realizes just how much she’s missed about this woman while she was away.

“Come now girls,” Isabela calls as she strides by. “As much as I’m enjoying this show, none of these lechers around here deserve to see it. Your room’s on me tonight. You can take as _long_ as you want to reunite before we leave in the morning.”

She punctuates that last statement with a wink and Velanna blushes furiously again while Bethany chuckles. “You’ll get used to her,” she promises, before taking Velanna’s hand and tugging her along after Isabela and Hawke.

Isabela buys them a round and a room before sauntering off to swindle people out of their money by playing cards, much to Hawke’s endless amusement. Bethany leads Velanna upstairs before any daggers are drawn (an inevitable outcome of the evening, as she’s come to learn over the past year) and they spend long hours tangling together beneath the sheets. Afterwards, Bethany rests her head on Velanna’s shoulder, fingers trailing aimlessly over her torso while they rest.

“Do you ever regret taking the cure?” Bethany asks quietly, delighting in the shiver that works its way across Velanna’s body as her fingernails skim across sharp hip bones.

“The only thing I regret,” Velanna says after a moment of contented silence, “is that it took us this long to meet again.”

Bethany laughs and drops a kiss on the faint scars on Velanna’s chest. “Well, it’s a good thing we have time now.”

In the morning, they will board Isabela’s ship and sail for Rivain, where Isabela will conduct business and Velanna will seek out a Dalish clan to gather and record their stories. Afterwards, they’ll continue on wherever else Isabela takes them, until Velanna is satisfied with what she’s collected from the various clans.

For the first time in her life, Bethany has nothing but time. She’s free to be whoever she wants, to go wherever her feet can carry her. She and Velanna can relearn each other beyond their identities as Wardens. Their futures are limitless, and the only melody that Bethany hears now is the one that beats from her own heart when Velanna draws her near.

**Author's Note:**

> in this house, grey warden bethany gets her happy ending, and so does velanna. honestly, when i sat down to think about all of the ladies i might like to see bethany hook up with, i wasn't 100% sold on velanna. until i started writing this story, and now i'm in love with the idea of this pairing. 
> 
> my main goal with this was to make the calling feel as pervasive and invasive as i imagine it must be to the wardens, like a sentient thing that's always just under their skin, taunting them. hopefully that came through.


End file.
